Strength in a Weakness
by Someone the First
Summary: Okay, one more time, I promise... If I'm spammed this time, that's just the way it has to be...


Author's Notes: Okay, I uploaded this again because of a spammer, yep. I got sick of that 1 on my reviews. It'd been on there for a while, but then I finally got totally sick of it. Yes, this song-in-fic plot is a bit overused. But I like it. I thought I'd try and write one, you know? I had inspiration. The song belongs to The Goo Goo Dolls and it's called "Name." Some of the words might not be exactly right, but I think I have it right. I hope. Well, s'all. Hope ya like it… 

**Strength in a Weakness**

And even though the moment passed me by, 

I still can't turn away. I saw the dreams you never thought you'd lose, 

Tossed along the way. Letters that you never meant to send 

Lost and thrown away. 

She was alone. All alone. They were all dead. All but her. 

It wasn't supposed to be that way. They were supposed to have won together, died together. Well,_ they _had died together. That was something. 

But she was left behind, honored by so many when she didn't really want to be there. She didn't want this victory alone, no matter what anyone would have thought. She felt left out, an emotion she hadn't felt in years. 

Her hand shook as she picked up the glass of water and took a sip. Her family didn't notice. They continued eating, talking quietly to one another, excluding her. 

The water cooled her throat and wet her mouth. She didn't feel any better. 

She tried to eat the supper set before her. Her hands shook as she attempted to lift her fork, but it clattered onto the plate, making so much noise her family actually looked up enough to notice her. 

"Are you okay, Rachel?" her mother asked. 

"I'm not hungry," she whispered. "I think I'll go up to my room now. May I be excused?" 

Her mother's eyes were sad and regretful, but she nodded. 

Now we're grown up orphans, 

I never knew their names. 

Don't belong to no one, 

That's a shame. 

You could hide beside of me, 

Maybe for a while, 

And I won't tell no one your name. 

And I won't tell them your name. 

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the sun set as it played shadows across the bumpy surface. 

_It's like I'm walking across the ceiling and it's a vast desert or mountain plain, _she thought sadly. _I can stop anytime, but what am I truly reaching but peace? I would be giving up. Who am I really to give up? Not myself. I keep going, tiring every step of the way… _

"I'm so tired," she whispered aloud, rubbing her eyes. "So, so tired. Can I stop please? Please. Tell me. I want to stop, guys. I can't go on living in the guilt that I'm the one who gets all the fame and credit." 

She opened her eyes again and specks and colorful blotches speckled her vision. No answer came to her. 

Her heart wanted to cry. But she was too tired for tears. 

Scars are souvenirs you never lose. 

The past is never far. 

Did you lose yourself somewhere out there? 

Did you get to be a star? 

She wanted to be dead, like they were, so she didn't have to bear the pain of the guilt. But she didn't want to commit suicide either. It wasn't her idea of fun. It wasn't very Rachel. It wasn't_ her._

But, then again, who was Rachel? 

Some crazed, ruthless girl who once would do anything to get the high off her enemies' blood? 

A girl who cherished her friends over anything? 

Or the girl lying on her bed now, numb in mind and body, thinking suicidal thoughts? 

Who _was _Rachel? 

Where did she go? 

Don't it make you sad to know that life 

is more than who we are? 

Grew up way too fast. 

Now there's nothing to believe. 

The reruns all become our history. 

"Guys, help me out here. I need an answer. Are you there? Do you even give crap? Or do you hate me? Do I really have reason to feel guilt?" she asked hoarsely of the ceiling. 

If she hadn't been so worn, she could have cried. But she was too tired. She was too weary. She didn't have the energy for tears. No, tears were too much trouble. They would take the little vigor she had left in her body away, and she would be nothing but a dead soul, stuck on the earth in a living body. 

"You don't care, do you?" Her voice grew fainter. "You really do hate me. I understand, really, I do. I just figured I'd test and see if you cared at all. No, I'm not asking pity of you. I was asking the truth." She closed her eyes. "And you gave me that." 

A tired song keeps 

Playing on a tired radio. 

And I won't tell no one your name. 

And I won't tell them your name. 

A faint breeze lifted the curtains from the window. A subtle whisper of the wind brushed her cheek. She kept her eyes closed, trying to shut out the pain. 

"I left the window open for you, Tobias," she told the darkening room. "I hoped you would come by. I guess you hate me too. Oh well. I deserve it, don't I?" 

To Rachel's harried mind, the gently hiss of the wind seemed to say, "No." 

It was enough to make her slowly opened her eyes and push her exhausted body up into a sitting position. She glanced at the window, a question clearly stated on her face, an answer needed to be fed. 

The lace drapes ruffled gently, not halting like they usually did in puffs of breezes. They swelled up and stayed that way. The breeze felt gentle, but had a hidden strength under it. 

"You're there, aren't you?" she whispered. She put her hand out to take nothing. "I didn't mean it to be this way, Tobias. You know it. I'm sorry. The only thing I'll ever ask from you again is forgiveness." 

The tapestry slowly fell back against the window frame. Rachel stood and padded across the carpet to the window. She looked outside. She was disappointed at the sight of insignificance, nothing special. Her eyes fell to the ground and she noticed the birdhouse she'd hung on the window so Tobias could visit her easily. 

She blinked a couple of times, not sure what she saw was right, that her eyes were playing tricks on her. 

But, no, when she reached out and touched it, she felt the slight indention. It was really there, freshly carved. 

A messy heart was scrawled on the dark wood of the birdhouse. Bits of wood lay around the edges, suggesting that it had been recently made. 

A warmth went through Rachel, waking her tired mind, unfreezing her frozen heart and soul. 

Tears fell freely down her cheeks for the first time since she'd learned how much guilt there was in being the one to survive. They didn't suck the energy from her; they gave it to her. 

Think about you all the time. 

But I don't need to sing 

It's lonely where you are 

Come back down 

And I won't tell them your name.


End file.
